well provoked, but I begin to think now I was a bit too harsh with him."
"Nonsense!" snorted Uncle Isaac. "Harshness is good for boys. I wasn't any harsher on him than on any of the boys that work in my mill. I made him toe the mark—that's all."
"But Will has a sensitive nature," said his father slowly. "Did he give any intimation that he was going to leave?"
"Not a bit. He did his work well—that is, as well as any boys do. None of 'em are much good."
Grace caught her breath. She started to say something, but her father, by a slight motion of his head, stopped her.
"Will stayed at my home, you know," went on Uncle Isaac. "I did the best by him I knew. I didn't let him out nights, I made him read good and helpful books like 'Pilgrims Progress,' and others of the kind, and I kept him from the moving pictures.
"Well the first thing I knew he wasn't in his room when I went to call him one morning, and there was this note."
He held it out. Mr. Ford read it eagerly All it said was:
"I can't stand it any longer. I'm going to quit."
